


A Dear Friend

by BlackPuzzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Master of Death Harry Potter, Supernatural Elements, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackPuzzle/pseuds/BlackPuzzle
Summary: Midoriya had known the moment when people couldn’t see, hear, or even touch Harry, something was wrong. Izuku asked the older boy a question that made him doubt his own sanity. “Harry, how come people can’t see you?” Green eyes, the same color as death, smiled at his query. “It’s simple, I’m all in your head, dear friend.” Izuku thought Harry was a gift, but the boy soon found out that all ‘Gift’s have consequence’s.





	1. Alone In the Crossroads

He was four when he had met Harry. Izuku remembered because he had sprained his ankle whilst running from bullies. The reason why is his quirkless nature. He had no power, nothing supernatural embedded in his genes to make his presence known to the world. Even then, these children, monsters would still have haunted him. His meek personality made him a target, and he won’t ever forget the first person that hammered him in. Kacchan wasn’t there to help. The constant companionship was broken the moment Izuku realized something important, very crucial and so cold and heart wrenching, he had wished he had no mind to solve it. One look towards those ruby orbs; he had known his best friend had casted him aside.

 

Kacchan had left Izuku to the wolves, a den of hideous beings waiting to strike his throat at the slightest of squeaks. Red eyes, the color of blood, sneering in vain; a strong jaw and an upturned nose, jutted. That was what Kacchan had portrayed when Izuku had asked if they could still commence their usual friendly meetings. Something in the green haired male shattered, because knowledge like this was not meant for children like him. It was not fair Midoriya had to experience this emotions. It was not fair, but the world is never fair to begin with. Midoriya does not need a verbal answer, and was smart enough to learn when he wasn’t wanted. So, he left his side, despite the longing when he glances at the blond boy’s back, because Kacchan, his no-longer best friend, had abandoned him.

 

Izuku ran. His shoe covered feet pitter-pattered on loose rubble in the play area. It led to a forest, and hopefully the fortress he had built when he was still part of Kacchan’s group, was unchanged and strong as it was when they constructed it. His heart pounded against his ribcage, fear had stroked his mind, whilst he mumbled plans and ideas on how to lose the bullies. Midoriya was not successful though, because of the feel coiling within his gut, snaking its way to his limbs and constricts him of air.

 

Izuku barreled into the clearing, having faith that the fortress had stood against time. His mouth pouted, as fresh tears tumbled out of his green forest eyes. The fortress at the base of the oak tree was ruined. The roof caved in, mold and fungus had rotted the wooden walls, and rusty nails littered the dirt ground. It was a mess, and Izuku had no shelter he could’ve hid in. He heard rustling in the nearby trees, and despair once again settled in his gut. This low, heavy pain of pure anxiety spread throughout his body, as if lava and ice had consumed him in a never-ending torrent of emotions. He could’ve nearly smelt it; the trouble was brewing in the air, whilst his struggle for life bubbled within him.

 

A red boot, so ragged and tainted of dirt, stepped inside his circle. Green eyes widened, and Izuku finalized this will be the moment his existence will end. Lungs puffed, desperate to take in oxygen, and his body shook with fear. Fear, just fear alone will swallow him in darkness if he did not get out. But alas, it was too late, because the bullies were coming closer. The hounds, monsters disguised as children taunted him, howled names, and threw rocks his way. Wooded sticks flew in the air, and smacked him across his forehead, and blood gushed from the wound those monsters provide.

 

Demons, these children were demons. They said they wanted to be hero’s, but with evil swimming along finely in their eyes, he hadn’t believed a single word. Their smirks were full of lies; their innocents are brimming with deceit. Yes, children were cruel, but these ones will always remain as monsters to him. The leader, the one wearing red boots, swaggered to Izuku, demanding his money. Same as usual, only when the green haired boy’s hand came up empty, was when things turned for the worst.

 

“You really are useless, Deku!”

 

‘Red boots’ ( _because that was the single thing he had remembered about the child_ ) snickered along with his brethren’s, pointing and ridiculing Izuku. The boy was older, a quirk displaying at the palms of his hands; sparking rocks floated above Red Boot’s, preparing to launch at him. Izuku mumbled apologies, hoping these monsters would understand his lack of financial use, and his promise of money for the next time, which he prayed to never happen, they meet again. As expected, they wouldn’t budge, and slowly they circled the poor trembling boy.

 

It’s as if he was a sheep amongst a pack of wolves, waiting to be devoured, waiting for the pain to start so it would be over soon. It hadn’t occurred to Midoriya, how this single moment would change the coarse of his life forever. The first person to strike against him was a gangly child with sandy hair and cold black eyes. She stretches her arms, and jabbed both of her appendage to Izuku’s tummy, and lunch was suddenly all over the floor.

 

“Aw, did that hurt, little Deku?” Sandy Hair smirks and flips her locks sideways. “Cause that’s what you get for not giving us money!”

 

The rest laughed, they always laughed no matter how hurt he was. They howl with malice because blood was spilt, his blood was spilt. This was no way to live, but thoughts were eradicated when another attack rampaged though his side. It burns, the sting of rocks and debris littered the right side of his abdomen. Izuku screamed his mercies, begging for his aggressors to stop, to end his misery and let the past be bygones. They replied with more injuries thrown to his body, whilst Izuku could do nothing to stop them.

 

Midoriya had known why these bullies were targeting him. It was because Kacchan wasn’t with him anymore. They had a grudge against his former best friend, and ever since then, these monsters came and claimed the blonde’s forgotten ‘territory’. All of this happened because he was abandoned, because no one wanted the cripple as a companion.

 

The beatings turned into torture when one of the four decided to fracture his arm. This triggered Izuku to jump and skid backward towards the lump of rotting woods and rusting nails. _Doom_ , that was what his mind relayed. Izuku was doomed to die at this moment, because a broken moldy board had pierced his ribs, and death was forcing him to his realm.

 

And Death had succeeded, because Izuku, his soul, had seen his own body in a bloody dripping mess, whilst a child with a fire quirk flamed it. The heat was not hot enough to burn his whole remains, but with emotional distress fueling her power, it was near sunset when his charred burnt body was nothing but black coal.

 

Izuku was crying. How was he to tell his mother he had died? How was he to tell he loves her and that he doesn’t ever want to leave her side? He wants to go back home, where it’s warm and nothing bad will ever happen to him. Where he was safe, and not cold in-

 

Something inky, a blackish hue radiating from within his own being burst forward. It was bustling with energy, an intense green light, bright yet dull as if washed by Death itself, floated in an ever graceful dance. It loomed over Midoriya, and that terrified the once human being. The child had never seen this glowing entity, but as any child, curiosity had taken its toll when Midoriya had touched said light.

 

            The green shade shaped an extension of itself into a hand, and softly grabbed Izuku’s on small appendage. The boy had giggled at the sensation, perplexed that such thing would scare him in the first place, when the light is gentle. It patted his head.

 

 _“So young,”_ The voice was mellow as it echoed through the forest night. _“It’s nothing special. I’ve been taken young myself.”_

 

“I’m sorry.” Izuku said, whilst his too green eyes were brimming with tears.

 

The hue brushed the salty liquids away. _“Nothing to be sorry for.”_ It then observed it’s surrounding before making a deal with the child. A deal so immense and fulfilling that no person with loved ones would ever disagree to. And Izuku said yes.

 

 _“ A Life for a Life, child. “_ Feather touches graces his locks, placing disorganized strands of hair to its satisfaction. _“For new Life to be reclaimed once more, another must be offered to the Earth.”_ The being leveled to Midoriya’s height and asked a simple, but life-changing question.

 

_“Show me, child, who is at fault for your demise.”_

 

\------

 

Three day after Midoriya was missing, Hinichi Haruhi, a third grader at Mei Elementary was found dead. Her death was the cause of her own misuse of her quirk, resulting in not only her loss of life, bur her immediate family as well. The house at Kurositchi St. was burned under an inferno of forest green fire, where ashes were the only remnant, and neither bone nor material was found intact. Another four days passed, and a lone boy, covered in soot, naked and shivering in the wind was spotted near the park of his own deathbed, unbeknownst of his other companion lurking in his shadows.

 

“Harry,” Midoriya whispered in his mind whilst pediatricians scrutinized his nonexistent injuries, “what are you?”

 

 _“I am your gift, Midoriya,”_ There was a pause, before the being commence once more. _“And a friend, your very own Dear Friend.”_

 

And that Friend, was the Master of Death himself.

 


	2. The Dead Stag in your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A delve into the past of what Inko had to deal with, Harry's own conclusion of the current happenings, and Izuku's Question regarding his own quirk.

Izuku was running again. His soft feet pattered on the wooden floor, whilst his arms swayed to-and-fro. Just as his foot touches the staircase, he felt strong limbs encasing his body. He wriggled, fighting against the hold, only to sigh in defeat and let his mother carry him to the bathroom. It was ok though, he felt safe, very warm and loved. She snugged her child close to her bosom.

“Izuku, what made you run?” Inko asked; her green hair was tussled from chasing her son. “You used to love taking baths, what’s with the change, young man?” 

“You’re not there anymore,” His own verdant eyes, a more intense shade than his mother, veered to the side. “It’s scary.”

A frown graced upon the older woman’s face, and sympathy races through her heart. “Sweetheart, do you want me to take the bath with you again?”

Izuku nods and quickly drags her into the bathroom with his mother in tow. Inko will have no choice but to take another wash session because of her adamant son. Her peepers traveled to her son's growing body and concluded that maybe it won’t be so bad taking another. There would only be a handful of time left before her Izuku reaches an age, where he’ll be ‘too cool’ to be with his mother. She huffs a laugh and embarked a journey with a toy boat and a ducky; her son the captain of the ship, whilst All Might, his favorite hero, floats upon the hot water of their make-belief world. 

A story, so strange and full of joy and laughter ended when Inko concluded dinner will be served cold if they were not finished. Both mother and son dried off and made way to the dinner table. Her little helper was tasked with placing plates and chopsticks on their modest table, whilst she cooks his best-loved dishes. The small family of two bickered, and the small green bean acted out a play depicted from a recently released All Might movie, waving his measly arms and punching the empty air. 

Inko green eyes memorized each and every movement of her son. She recorded his actions in her brain, never letting the sight leave her. She does not want this innocent image of him tainted. No. Not again. Her train of thought left her down memory lane, when officers declared the youngest member of the Midoriya family was ‘gone’. She had felt tears bubbling in her once lively eyes, and how Mitsuki’s desperate endeavors of making her eat, sleep, and just survive, failed. Inko hadn’t slept in those seven days Izuku was ‘lost’.

“Inko, please, you have to understand,” Her blonde best friend was sitting beside her at that time, consoling her lost, whilst her own child sat in the kitchen with his own All might figurine. “You need to eat. At least do it for your son. You know he wouldn’t want his own mother to-“

“I know!” Green hair was tangled in her hands, as she scratched profusely. It was the head and heartache that had gotten her, and her frenzied bid on staying sane was leaving her. Just like how Izuku had disappeared, she too is losing focus of reality. Bright verdant orbs stared into the shining red abyss. 

Her mouth was pulled to a frown. “I know, Mitsuki. I know Izuku is not gone, he’s just missing.”

“Inko,” Locks, the color of sand, bounced harshly as gravity pulled them, whilst Mitsuki stood up in shock. "You saw those data prints! You saw his clothes, and you know his DNA has been confirmed that it's- 

“It’s Izuku! I know! But he's smart, he won't leave- he's not gone! Izuku is just somewhere-“

Two hands took hold of both sides of Inko’s face. “He’s gone, Inko!” Mituski’s ruby eyes were filled with the same salty liquid, as Inko’s own. “Midoriya Izuku is dead!”

Silence. Utter silence, before wails of defeat, shattered the once peaceful home. A small, younger male copy of Mitsuki clutched his toy. Deku was gone. Deku was gone because Katsuki wasn't there to protect him any longer. Blood eyes could only stare, as his own ‘aunty’ yelled her repudiations, her hatred of reality, the unfairness of it all. Katsuki hadn’t realized the full entitlement of his personal situation. He just deemed that Deku was dead, like everybody else.

So when Deku returned the next day, in his birthday suit, covered in ashes and shivering in the wind, Katsuki had felt a burst of relief. He had sworn it wasn’t for him, but for his aunty. He saw her snatched the tiny bundle and placed Izuku between her chests and cried. It was the day when she had finally accepted his death, had Izuku turned to come back. He went back to her. 

Izuku stayed with his mother and hadn't left her side for days. During the difficult times of over-nurturing her offspring, and catering to his needs, their bond as mother and son had evolved into a stable stronger connection than before. 

The happiness made between the duo could only last so much before inky darkness decided to overtake Izuku’s own senses. It started several days after his arrival. Nightmares and terrors reined his dreams, and nothing could stop it. A handful of times, Inko had no choice but to let her son sleep with her to prevent his nightly actions from devouring him. When she deemed it was safe, she lets him doze in his room. But scratches and droplets of blood were spotted on his bed sheets, and it cemented Inko’s belief that Izuku had been harming himself in his slumber. The screams that tore out of his mouth, tortured Inko until she couldn't take the burden any more than she had to, and forces Izuku to sleep with her permanently until the issue solved itself. Her midnight privacy was blown to dust, but if it meant keeping her son sane and safe, she will sacrifice what she can.

Therapy did not help either, and since money was tight in the first place, the sessions were limited to three times per month. Only four had gone by, but the dreams Izuku possessed hadn't nulled, instead, it festered. Black claws, sharp enough to tear away his own reality in his mind, ripped away what dreams he could have. Later that night, Izuku was found in the corner of his own chambers, awake with his hands covering his ears, vivid greens shut to the world, and mumbling nonsense till daylight shines through his window. 

Izuku, despite being his mother’s protection, had not slept for three days now, and his ability to embrace Morpheus’s own arms dwindled, as he too has no sense of connection towards it. 

Harry awoken from his hibernation on the fifth day, was befuddled and had asked why Izuku couldn’t sleep. It was not his business as to what the humanling does in his free time. Although the sight of the child curled in a nest of blankets, pillows barricading his body, and notebooks pilled to his side, whilst he rocks to the beat of his own physical heart, worried the spirit. Harry had recalled a memory of a similar happening in his first childhood. 

The Dursley’s…they were brutal, and had no sympathy for him, despite his hunger of nourishment and freedom. Freedom, in his past, was imagination in and of itself. As long as he stayed with the Dursley’s, Freedom never existed, until Hogwarts came by. Then the hats were turned, and secrets reveled. Wars were fought, and a sacrifice was to be made, and that sacrifice was he. Made into being Master of Death, Harry was forced to live and relive other people’s lives, reborned and restore peace to a once ravaged world, and bring balance to the multiverse, just as Fate and Death seemed fit. Harry was no Master of Death, but Its Equal. Just like Its Equal, Harry has a duty, and that duty is Balance. So when Death and Fate dropped him into the mind of a four-year-old child, he was baffled. He either had the body or rebuilt to be a ‘sidekick' for the ‘hero', not in a calamity of both, because the situation he is currently in, was not deemed possible. Two spirit’s cannot occupy an ‘anchor' unless the said soul is possessed, or had a ‘regulator'; usually a miniscule preservation of remnants from a previous ‘cleansing', but will eventually evaporate without a proper ‘bonding' with the ‘anchor'. Such terminology is making his headache. Never mind the stress bound by the said situation. Harry swears, whenever he was done with this life, he will have a talk with his fellow collogues. As of now, such response was unfeasible, due to the lack of communication involved between the two parties.

Harry's thought process succumbed to normalcy once more and had decided interacting with the child would be beneficial. The Balancer’s melodious voice thrilled the air, beckoning an answer from his asked question. When the youngster did not respond to his concern, it was then when Harry took responsibility to pull the youth out of his own mind. Creaking bones from millennia of unused had finally taken form and strong enough to manifest, stirred to action, as Harry sluggishly paced to Izuku. Just as Harry’s ghostly shroud landed adjacent to Izuku, the child parted his mouth and begins to speak.

“They’re screaming, “ he said whilst rubbing his neck, sheepish at keying his thoughts to Harry’s query. His green eyes then peered at the elder’s own. Deep, and old; full of depth, something peaceful and chaotic along the way. Harry’s eyes consistently intrigued Izuku. They had an everlasting shine, an infinite glow that will never cease to exist, as if those colors, those eyes by no means, only belonged in ones imagination. Harry’s eyes were special, because to Izuku, Harry's eyes represent infinity.

The elder spirit quirked one of his brows, puzzled at Izuku’s foretelling. “Screaming,” Curiosity lingered in his mind, whilst his brain conjured comments, as to how Harry would be ‘curious' when said entity is an ‘all-knowing' spiritual creature and an Immortal Being? He should have a full grasp on Izuku’s symptoms from the moment he took form. Alas, the sciences behind it all were stripped the moment he landed in this darn world. Fate does not want her Balancer to have the upper hand, and instead let Harry free-roam into the pathways paved by her own wishes.

This is why Harry’s hatred toward said entity reigns supreme in his heart. He doesn’t trust her; haven't had a full, civilized conversation in over a millennium, and the Creator forbids, if Fate has the slightest chance to ruin his current life as of now, he for sure will discontinue working with her. The Creator holds knowledge of his grudge, and Harry is not below himself to act on cold hardened revenge. It will not be the first time he had a savage tango with the she-devil, nor will it be his last. Harry is familiarized with the vast ways of pressing Fate’s buttons. Apparently, choosing a different path than the one she had chosen, irks her to an unimaginable annoyance. Death had commented of how such spirited vitality can create unpredicted cosmic waves, and thus uncharted demise can pretty much spread throughout a certain planet, if not other worlds altogether. 

Having the entire outline of a ‘Galaxy Project’ scrambled to bits also had meant no one, not even Death could handle the severity of the blunt force of missing lives and hours, upon them without help. The stacks of paper weighted on not only their desk, but also their henchman’s, littered Death’s sanctuary for 300 years. All of the Immortal Being’s blamed Harry and Fate for such nonsense, considering how even the smallest of arguments can trigger Death’s emotional fortitude during Fate’s and Harry’s battle. To all who thought Death is a cold-fished, stony-faced harbinger of The End, they’re not wrong. It may have been this particular event that had set them off in the first place. Because who in their right mind would want to work between Fate and Balance when Fate’s favorite had clearly been Chaos, Harry’s other shitty co-worker. Existence as an Immortal Being is clearly a pain, and something even his mortal enemies wish to never succumb to. 

“Screaming?” Harry said once more, whilst his brain burned away the cotton balls stuffing his mind of dreadful thoughts he would rather forget. He then bumps lightly against the boy’s shoulder to grab his attention. Izuku turned his head to give undivided attention to Harry. 

“Yes,” Midoriya pauses before continuing his explanation. “They won’t stop, no matter how much I told them to. They just-“

“Kept screaming.” Harry finishes.

Izuku nods. “Yeah, screaming.”

Harry sighs at his charges dilemma, contemplating on what materials provided by the boy. It sounds as if something had attached itself to Izuku. Whatever it was he doesn't like it. The worst conclusion popped in his mind was a stalking Purity. Although, those creatures tend to lurk in the dark abyss of the Purges, and remain there unless a disturbance-

Harry immediately glances to the right, starring directly at Izuku, whilst the boy drooping eyes finally succumbing to a close, and slowly mumbles himself to another long bout of restless sleep. 

Disturbance. Harry must have caused it. Considering the boy’s revival to the living, and Harry’s introduction to his supposedly ‘unoccupied’ anchor, was abnormal to his own rights, and how he presents his magic as if it’s a public display, may have stirred the Gate-Way to temporarily form because of his close connection with sibling Death. He is in an absolute mess if that were the case. Although, reports from one of Death's department indicated summoning rituals from the mortal realms, can inadvisably be the root of similar situation Harry is currently on. It’s hard enough to tell the exact effect of such summoning in the first place, because of Fate’s credited ruling and was adamant on not giving Harry vital information, which would have made his endeavor easier to solve. 

He rolled his green eyes and gently lifted the tyke to his bed. He unfurled the blankets and tucked Izuku in. His hand grazes the frazzled locks upon the child's head and shifted it to the side. Those actions garnered by Harry new ‘anchored’, should not have been affecting Izuku in any way. Standardized testing should ensure his paranoia, but careful planning is a must. Operation with any child could be a potential hazard for him, meaning reporting a missing spirit to Death is a big ‘no-no'. Harry is an Immortal Being and can take care of himself, but a young soul no matter how many times they had been reincarnated, should be monitored for harmful changes in their environment, and /or their behavior. Harry had multiple cases on a similar subject to acknowledge mapping a structured plan is essential to both Harry, and the, currently, passenger’s survival. 

But the potential of a Purity being loose in the bouts of the Mortal Realm, is a mystery and a pain in the arse in and of itself. He loathed his current Mission already, and Fate just had to stub her shitty nose on everything. Darn, he hopes his choices are far from what she picked. His verdant eyes glance at the boy once more, before retreating inside Izuku’s Soul for a well-deserved relaxation. 

Tomorrow will be a new day. 

\-----

Early morning arrived with Izuku yelling his tiny heart out. Inko’s immediate advance towards her son’s chambers resulted in her clambering on the bed and scooping the crying boy. The youngest Midoriya struggled against her hold, screeching as if Satan had gotten his soul, and is burning his spirit to ashes. Inko’ grasp on Izuku continued to be a constant safe ground, as Izuku awoke from Morpheus’s embrace. 

He panted against his mother's breast, clutching tightly on her pink cardigan, eyes teary as choked sobs bubbled out of his mouth.

He saw them again. 

Those wretched things ripping those he loved away from him. Izuku could still hear his mother begging, as he saw her dying in his arms. Their ghastly whisper's terrorized him in the dark abyss of his dreams. Not a dream, more like a nightmare. Green eyes laced with salty liquid, stared at his attachment. His fingers felt numb as if the time slowly passed by and had turned to dust. 

The adrenaline streaming in his blood sang for action, any kind to keep himself safe. But nonetheless, he is without harm because his mother is here. Monsters. The monsters in the dark do not exist beyond his imagination. They were just an image made from his subconscious, and aren’t meant to be in his world. The world of reality- because this is reality, right?

He inspected his mother and adjusted his sightings from the tears. A pink cardigan and a kind smiling face was all Izuku needed to confirm, it is in fact, reality. He wasn’t trapped inside a cage, unlike his dream. Then again-

No! he mustn’t delve into those thoughts. His mother is here to comfort her son, him, Izuku Midoriya, into staying sane from the bouts of freakish instances, correlating with his nightmares. It hurts to see her in pain because he was the one causing it. He doesn't know what to do at this point, because going to doctors and therapist don't work, and Izuku would not dare bother a kindred spirit such as Harry, to do his bidding. It was too much. Just too much for him. 

Inko wiped away the last drags of salty liquid pouring from Izuku’s green eyes and asked him if he feels better. Izuku answered with positive feedback, because he dreads what presenting his actual emotions would assimilate to. He hunkers down within Inko’s bosom, and let his mother rock him until his alarm signals the time to prepare for school. 

Lord. His gut had already rotted from despair at having to attend the obligated venue. He smiled at his mother when she told him of how his friends have missed him, and he how he should meet with them again. Izuku never told his mother how each and every one of those children were fakes. 

Before Harry had appeared in his life, it was a vision full of cotton. There was only so much he could grasp, but with Harry…well, Harry made it simple. By all means necessary, he doesn't know how it correlates to his understandings of complex meanings. He can dissect problems just as if he was mother himself. He has the knowledge, but it's not his. It's from the man harboring inside his heart. It's not memories per se. He doesn't know how to describe it, but he can think like mum. He recognized that those ‘friends' were ‘fake'. He just doesn't know how. And that- that was what scared him.

Harry is great. He revived him with his powers; he's his quirk, for heaven's sake! But can quirks have a conscious mind of their own? He had learned of hero’s with similar powers, but not as advanced as his. Harry is special; he could do many things. Many things that should be impossible for people who have abilities in the same category he is in. A quirk could essentially have quirks, can they? Izuku delved into his thoughts as his mother carried him to the baths, and there he had his first real scare. If no such quirks exist, then what is Harry? 

A child with a quirk like Izuku would be jumping in joy for having such magnificent endowment; they would not have thought twice of the consequences. Not Izuku though. When Harry came, he ripped the wool from his eyes. He doesn’t have the blessed gift of ignorance burning within a young soul. Instead, he felt old, as though he had this happened before. At times he wondered if he was Harry, and Izuku was an insignificant imagination built only to satisfy his boredom. Occasionally, Izuku hadn’t acknowledged Harry existence, or if this world was his or not. For that, he was truly terrified of what sheltering Harry had done to his mind. He can’t kick him out. Harry is his quirk! He-he can’t, he-

He was afraid because his symptoms appeared after Harry became his. He was anxious for his mother, because he was worrying her over his illness. Izuku is honestly Frighten down to Hell, because he doesn’t know what Harry is. 

The only reason why the question came to be, leads to one source. Izuku Midoriya cannot be a ‘child’ anymore, because Harry took it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, ugh, not what I would have expected it, but it is what it is. I wasn’t really prepared on putting that little tid-bit at the end right there, but I just can’t help making Izuku have a more developed mind than the average kid. I mean, he have Harry in him, and there has to be some sort of setback. Because you know, “Great power comes with great responsibility”, and that type of bullshit. It just wouldn’t make Izuku too OP. Yes, I am making Izuku have One for All.
> 
> As for Katsuki, we only have a snippet, but I'm hoping to plop him in action in chapter 3 soon. It's not going to be anything major, but it will create some ripples, so a bit of an AU type of thing, but it's still going to be canon-based.
> 
> Anyways, next chapter is when shit gets juicy, REAL JUICY (hope so), so watch out for that. Other than the blabs I've told you guys, that's pretty much it. Oh also, please review, cause I love feedback from you guys. If any of y'all have constructive critics, please, I BEG of you, TELL ME! I want to make this story as best as possible, with minimal grammatical issues. Thank you for putting up with my lateness, and have a great night or day, whenever and wherever you’re reading this. Peace out!


	3. The Darkness is Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katsuki is fine right? He's ok. He's ok, cause ehe ain't crazy. He's not. He's NOT!
> 
> Summary: Midoriya had known the moment when people couldn’t see, hear, or even touch Harry, something was wrong. Izuku asked the older boy a question that made him doubt his own sanity. “Harry, how come people can’t see you?” Green eyes, the same color as death, smiled at his query. “It’s simple, I’m all in your head, dear friend.” Izuku thought he was a gift, but the boy soon found out that all ‘gifts‘ have consequences.
> 
> LMAO, Sorry about the overly spaced out chapter, I don't know why my Grammarly made it that way.

Chapter 3     The Darkness is Real

 

 

 

 

 

The moment Midoriya stepped inside the classroom, all movements and noises ceased to an end. Bakugou could remember the minute details of his former friend's gentle frame, of how he swayed cautiously to-and-fro, and his too green eyes darted aimlessly, searching for invisible monsters. The freckled toddler fiddled with his stubby fingers, twisting in bouts and mumbling nonsense to appease his scrambled thoughts.

 

 

 

‘Worry’ came racing to the forefront of his mind as Bakugou observed Deku’s skittishness. Sure, normal remnants such as trembling and hushed voices passing through his lips, were a commonplace amongst the Midoriya household. Although, it’s the way Deku’s eyes pierces at each individual person, that had his heart contract in an undesirable way.

 

 

 

Deku’s eyes; it’s darker than what he had remembered. Not the color, but it’s the look as if something is chasing him; a monster of imaginable height bearing down as if he was prey. The predatory feeling of being watched, of being stalked, of being hunted had chills sent along Bakugou’s small spine. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

 

 

 

He’ll confront the weakling later, but the careless whispers of ‘Undead Deku’ coming back to life, the loud crowing of how ‘reviving’ was his quirk, and stupid congrats that he had finally developed one, seemed to gain more tears than actual smiles. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

 

 

 

The way Deku sat down, hunched and bent with invisible weight welded to his shoulders. He held his pencil too harshly and nearly snapped it in half, arms shaking, and harsh gasp reaping from his lungs, had set an already blaring alarm into overdrive. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and Katsuki is going to investigate whether the twerp like it or not.

 

 

 

He hadn’t seen his ‘old hag’ cried like a child he once used to be (to be fair he is still one). The tough mask cementing her soft heart had condoned to him that all humans possessed a fragility, only when push comes to shove does the shell cracks loose. Katsuki was determined, from the moment his mother shed her tears, he wouldn’t let it happen.

 

 

 

She is strong, tenacious and a rugged beast not to be reckoned with. She was a pillar in which he could lean on when times were harsh, have emotions to match his own, and a forceful drive to get what’s done right. To see his own mother, his precious person despite his voiced sayings, crumbling to nothing whilst consoling his ‘aunt’, had made him realized everything is short lived. Nothing lives forever. Including his small, meager but powerful family. If something as tragic as Deku were to happen, he would be alone. He would be left with a crying ‘old hag’ and ‘old man’. He wouldn’t be there to make his people feel better, because he would have already been gone.

 

 

 

An imagined possible situation that could happen wrecks him from inside, eating half of his organs, and spewing it out to show how such fear can consume him with ease. His body shook, small fist clenched and deep heaving breaths wrangles his lungs. His eyes traveled to the green haired abomination. He will be fine; he won’t end up like Deku. He won’t end up like him, because Katsuki is not weak.

 

 

 

Katsuki watches on as the green coward slumped over his table, and got out his supplies. He should too, the teacher were now explaining simple activities that will be occurring within the next few minutes. He opened his bag, and started to work.

 

 

 

Apparently, Shoku-sensei wanted the children to be in groups of four. With the odd person out being Midoriya, despite numerous others consistently begging for him to join their group, he insisted to work alone. This irks the small blonde. Not only had the dweeb diverged from his usual behaviors, he seemed to lack ‘Deku’ normalcy.

 

 

 

Bakugou’s red eyes watched the toddler stumble to his assigned seat, a few tables away from his. The grip of his pencil hardened, the object was shaking in his fist as his anger elevated. Katsuki cursed under his breath when he too was an ‘odd one out’. He searches for his pack mates, and issued himself as leader once integrated.

 

 

 

Class progressed without Deku being in a designated crowd. Those emerald orbs would at times fade, as if staring into a nonexistent abyss. It wasn’t the first and only time Izuku had done so, it was the hushed voices, short chirps and calls; as if he was communicating with someone. That had never happened before. Ever.

 

 

 

He whips his attention to his trio of ‘friends’, when something caught his eye on the wall across from him. The hairs on his arms rose. Bakugou gulps for air as he hopes the image he has seen was false. That it was his mare childish imagination at works. That it was only lightings, because shadows can’t do that, can they? He wasn’t certain, but the way Deku shallowly whispers at the ‘thing’, made him certain that whatever this was, possess a threat to his being. He doesn’t it. Not one bit.

 

 

 

Katsuki was close to bullying the poor green haired child to stop doin’ weird shit, but was once again caught by this classmates desire for his judgement upon his work. He snatched the paper, criticizing the scrap of garbage, (because in reality, Katsuki knows he could and would therefore, would do better) pointing out their mistakes, and listed the missing parts. Katsuki wasn’t up to much iterating his whole speech, or put effort to his other groupmates begging for advice. The only subject to focus o other than the task handed to him by Shoku-sensei, was the shadows swaying, talking to Deku’s own shadow, therefore to him also. He was not about to be scared about Deku’s new possible quirk, nor was Deku supposed to use it on Katsuki. Surely Deku would realize such mistake was unfeasible by any standards.

 

 

 

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Wish that shadow shit stop.”

 

 

 

The one with red wings, tilted his head, confusion set on his face. “What shadow shit, Bakugou?”

 

 

 

Katsuki huffs then points the disturbing moving image on the wall. “That one,” He said. “I’m gonna teach Deku a lesson not to use his freakish quirk on me!”

 

 

 

Long-fingers scratched his own head. “What do you mean, Deku is quirkless; he got's to be lying cause' he actually doesn’t have one.”

 

 

 

“Then the fuck do you explain how he got back?!” Katsuki bellowed. The class was too loud for his teachers to fully decipher his yells.

 

 

 

“Well, I don’t know,” Long-fingers said, he then continued on his drawing. “Last I heard they just found him. A villain could’ve done something really weird, like I dunno-“

 

 

 

“Like make a clone!” The Red-wings exclaimed. “The villain could make a clone and destroy the body, so when Deku got kidnapped he-“

 

 

 

“That’s stupid, and you guys know it!” His group shuffled, quite at his outcry of their idiocy. He knows it wasn’t true, because they did check on Deku, and they said he had finally developed a quirk.

 

 

 

Reanimation. None of his family members have a quirk related to that of his. But how could a simple quirk, to regenerate after death, control shadows? It doesn’t make sense, nor does the link to anything other than death to be a common suspect to all of this. What is this?

 

 

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Katsuki turns around and sauntered over to Deku. The toddler blank face sent more shivers down his spine. It’s unwavering to see something so nightmarish in Deku, but will not stop his decision to abolish Deku’s manipulations.

 

 

 

He banged the table hard. “Hey, nerd! Wake up!” Deku had yet to be pulled from his own world when Katsuki shoved the boy from his own seat. “I said, wake the fuck up!”

 

 

 

The action alone did the trick, and Deku arose from his mind to the world of the living once more. Too green orbs wandered from face to face, as the classmates observe their skirmish over Katsuki’s topic.

 

“Kacchan,” Deku started. “What did I do wrong?”

 

 

 

Strong heavy breaths came out of the blonde boy. “What’s wrong?” He pointed his accusation at the wall. “What wrong is that you should fucking stop your shit, you quirkless dweeb!”

 

 

 

Other toddlers were now gathered and sensei Shoku was trying to determine the problem. “What’s going-“

 

 

 

“Kacchan, I don’t know what you mean?” Deku tearfully quakes in fear.

 

 

 

“The fuck?! Stop fooling around!” His fingers the animated shadow. Shadows weren’t supposed to act like they were alive, because they're not. “Stop moving the shadows, you creepy fuck!”

 

 

 

“Kacchan, how am I supposed to do that when I can’t in the first place?”

 

 

 

Katsuki’s own palms smoked, his anger rose from fake excuses he had known Deku would use. “Just stop it!”

 

 

 

“What do you mean!” Deku retorts, only for his own argument cut short by their sensei.

 

 

 

“What is going on with you two?!’ She separated the toddlers and observed Katsuki’s defensive posture. “What’s this going on about between you and Izuku-kun?”

 

 

 

“He won’t stop using his quirk!” He then indicated the swaying black ink on the wall of the classroom.

 

 

 

The teacher glances at the place where Katsuki specifies his disturbance, only to be met with nothing. She quirks her own brow in confusion, not know what to say before confirming her beliefs that what Katsuki saw was his own imagination. She did so, only for the said child to retaliate on her own opinions regarding the subject at hand.

 

 

 

“NO, YOU’RE WRONG!!!” his fingers were still directed at the ‘blank’ wall. “IT’S THERE, DON’T YOU SEE IT!?”

 

 

 

“Katsuki, I know you’re upset, but that doesn’t mean you could yell at your sensei or any of your classmates like that.” Shoku negotiated with the child. Katsuki shoves away at the peace offering, implicating Deku was the one to cause it. Izuku was silent, crying quietly, whilst hugging his own shaking form.

 

 

 

“Katsuki, you need to stop!” Shoku nabbed the toddler from the ground, balancing him on her hips, amidst his wailings.

 

 

 

“NO! LET GO!!!”

 

 

 

“I’m going to have to call your parents on this, Katsuki-kun. You made a very poor decision today and you should apologise to Izuku-kun for what you did.”

 

 

 

“NO!” He banged against her shoulders. “YOU DON'T SEE IT!!!”

 

 

 

“I don’t need to, because there is _nothing_ there, Katsuki-kun.” She hefted him, bringing the once closer to her breast.

 

 

 

At the finality of their argument, Katsuki’s chest felt constricted. He refused to believe what he saw was imagery his brain had decided to pull up. He denied their own beliefs because of their stupidity to not be able to decipher a normal and an aberrant shadow. Everything that wasn’t up to par to his own opinion was hogwash. Because accepting their other peoples' statements meant he was the one that was crazy. He’s not crazy right. It’s staring at him right now, and Katsuki had never been more scared for his life than ever before.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well, so we meet again young readers. Sorry for the late update and small chapter. I was busy with classes and such, and also work drama cause who else have a crazy bitch of a manager in training. Apparently, I do, and it sucked balls. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, sorry again. I hope you guys are finding this chapter ok, cause it wasn’t what I expected, really. It was supposed to head to a different direction and was supposed to have a few more pages till I call this chapter done. But I haven’t updated anything yet, so wha-la! Thank you guy so much for leaving reviews. And please correct me if I’ve got some info wrong, cause it’s been a heck of a long time since I’ve gone beck to this story.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, oh man, had I had to wait for this story to be written fully. This plot had been going inside my head for far too long for it not to get its own spotlight, ya know. But yes, Harry is this case, had fully taken over the mantel of Master of Death, and is using the title to its full potential. He’s a bit darker in this story than my other previous HP X BNHA crossover, and the reason why is because of his previous experiences of being reborned over and over again, and forced to fix other people’s mistakes. I mean, if I were to be in his situation, I would too be cynical about every little thing going on with the living.
> 
> Anyways, next chapter is going to be darker, so lets hope those that love angst are gonna like this. As always, thank you for reading, and please, don’t be afraid to review and give me your thoughts. Can’t wait to see y’all next time. Peace out!


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